Friday, July 8, 2011

Toys in the Toolbox

My rolling cart of toys rests in a rolling toolbox I bought at Lowe's. From 2007 to early 2010, I rolled that thing from party to party and now it sits in our master bedroom mocking me. One day I tossed some of the ooey gooey stuff  - the massage oils in flavors like blue raspberry and fuzzy navel. Not my thing, nor Bubba's, but I hawked it to the women at parties like it was some great stuff.

A few weeks ago I noticed one of the higher up the pyramid reps on Facebook. She's in Florida and wickedly successful. I sent her a message and asked her about getting back in the biz but the more I think about it the less enthusiastic I become. She said she'd call and she did. Left me a message but I just don't think I really can invest the time or money or summon the old enthusiasm to sell it again.

The toys used to sell themselves when I'd do parties so really, not a lot of convincing goes on. Maybe I'm just making excuses.

Used to be Bubba was home every night by five and off on the weekends but now they've gone and switched up his schedule and I don't know if it will ever go back to the way it was. He told me he'd rather I just stay home on Saturday nights but a couple hundred dollars a few times a month sure would be sweet.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Pop In

Our neighbor to the left of us is a lonely man. Retired Army man who moved up here from Georgia about 10 years ago. He has a large dog big as a cow that lurks around the yard and often scares the bejeezus out of me. I see Mr. Lonely watching the sunset sometimes sipping something out of a big plastic cup. He's got reason to drink these days. His wife's in jail right now. She embezzled a bunch of money from her former employer. I used to envy that roof over their deck and the speedboat they got but when she got put away I realized some stuff just ain't worth having.

The other night I was in the kitchen fussing at Bubba for gawd only knows what. My voice got a little loud and I may have dropped the F bomb once or twice. I was washing dishes and fixing to mop the sticky floor. Sassy'd spilled juice all over and I was mad as a hornet when Mr. Lonely knocked on the door just as happy as could be. Big ol' smile on his lonesome face and a bag of homegrown taters in his hands.

Bubba invited him right in even though my hair was a mess and my mood even worse. He stood there bragging about how his cornstalks are as high as our ceiling. I was fit to be tied and just kept right on mopping while he stood there. Guess he got the hint because he decided to turn tail and leave pretty quick. When he said he was going that's about the time my mind thought to thank him for the taters but it came out more like I was thanking him for leaving. (And I was.)

I just know when visiting time comes around to see his missus he'll be telling her just how happy he is that they   are still as in love as newlyweds unlike the Rigbys next door who fuss and fight over sticky floors and haven't any manners at all.